Long Black
by devdevlin
Summary: "Just make sure you steer clear of Hogwarts. There's something funny about that place, and the coffee they make... something in the water. Something that keeps you coming back. Something that makes sure you'll never leave." Non-magic coffee shop AU
1. Chapter 1

hi. me again. making another normal trope into something weird. gosh somebody needs to stop me. legit like, take my phone away from me, this is getting redonk. what even is life? i do not know.

anyway, this plot bunny has been viciously thumping and bouncing up and down and demanding my attention for some time now, and you might have even seen my edit on tumblr. but in saying this, i still don't quite know what this is, so who knows where we're going on this wild ride, it'll be a surprise for all of us!

i hope you enjoy it a little bit, i am getting quite obsessed with this one

* * *

"Just... whatever you do. Steer clear of Hogwarts."

She raised an eyebrow at her long-time friend and now roommate skeptically.

"That's... the coffee shop," Hermione stated, feeling though she were missing something.

"Yes. Up the hill, toward the end of Hogsmeade. The little stone building. There's this little tower on the top, and there's a picket fence, and a quaint little garden, and-"

"I know which one it is, Luna."

"Oh, good," she said, relieved. "It'll be easier for you to avoid if you know where it is."

Hermione blinked. "Um... while I can't fault you on your logic, I must ask... what, exactly, is it that's wrong with this coffee shop?"

Luna stepped closer, reaching out and bringing Hermione's hands together, cradling them softly in her own.

"There's been rumours, lately. I can't tell you which are stories and which aren't," Luna cautioned, "but what I can tell you is... there's something funny about that place, and the coffee they make... something in the water. Something that keeps you coming back. Something that makes sure you'll never leave."

Hermione blinked.

A part of her wanted to tell Luna how silly she sounded. A very, very strong part, because honestly, a _coffee shop?_

But, seeing how desperately Luna spoke and how she really couldn't afford to pay any more than the almost nothing she was paying in rent with her, she smothered it.

"Have... you been to this coffee shop?"

"No!" Luna said at once. "And you mustn't go there either! They say just one drink is all it takes, and you're hooked!"

"Who exactly is 'they?'"

"My father. He's the editor of the-"

"Quibbler, yes," Hermione finished. "I remember. Is... is he the only one?"

"He has sources. Many of them, and they all agree there's something funny about that place," Luna insisted, her hands tightening on Hermione's ever so slightly. "Just, please promise me."

Her pale, silver eyes were pleading.

Hermione sighed.

"Alright," she caved. "I'll... get my fix somewhere else."

Luna looked relieved for a short moment before she frowned. "You shouldn't, you know. My father says caffeine is the devil's drink."

"Well, _there_ he's certainly onto something," Hermione said as she took her hands out of Luna's. "Take it away from me, and you very well might find yourself face to face with the devil."

* * *

The tiny, often forgotten town of Hogsmeade was a perfect picture of beauty. It was a big part of the reason Hermione had decided to move there. She needed a fresh start, and what could possibly be more fresh than an isolated little town nestled in a valley with a population less than a thousand, hours out of any major cities?

The narrow streets were cobbled and had wide footpaths, lined with cottages with gardens full of life. The Tudor style buildings were something out of a story book, complimented by the rustic street signs and tall, iron light posts. It was a town with an atmosphere of fantasy, one that instilled calm and restfulness.

But despite its beauty and lack of crowds, the thing Hermione liked beyond all else about Hogsmeade, was the fact that her odds of running into her ex-boyfriend Viktor were very close to none.

Things hadn't ended on the best of terms, to put it mildly. She didn't like thinking about it.

There was only one thing standing between herself and the perfect, new country life she'd dreamed of.

A job.

Desperate to get out of London at any cost, Hermione had leapt at the opportunity to move in with Luna who called the small town home, abandoning her stable government job at the last minute without a thought for her future bank account.

She was enormously grateful. If it hadn't been for Luna's hospitality, it certainly wouldn't have been possible.

She felt horribly guilty about the situation. She knew the extra food, water and electricity would pose quite the burden for her friend who only worked a minimum wage job at the local animal shelter, but Luna had insisted they would manage fine with what she earned and the small amount of savings Hermione had brought with her. Even if they had to live on instant noodles for a short period.

Still, Hermione was determined to pay her back. She had high hopes that it wouldn't take her too long to find a new job somewhere in the town, especially seeing as she wasn't at a point in her life to be picky. She'd work as a waitress if she had to, or as a cleaner, or even as a shop girl.

Surely somewhere would take her.

And so, Hermione found herself wandering the main street that Monday, dressed in her nicest blouse with a bag full of copies of her resume slung over her shoulder. She'd spent all of her morning psyching herself up, telling her reflection as she applied her make-up that she absolutely refused to take no for an answer.

It would work out. It had to.

However, what she hadn't anticipated, was how _firmly_ the townspeople would say the word 'no'.

The few she'd encountered that morning had been brutal in their rejections, refusing to so much as hear Hermione's plea.

 _Not hiring, not interested, we don't have any openings at the moment._

It was exceedingly disheartening.

By the time she made it to the end of the main street to the top of the hill, she was in a decidedly worse mood than she'd been at the bottom.

She sighed dejectedly as she spun on her heel to look down the street, admiring the vivid green of the plant life in the sun. It really was stunning, even if the people weren't overly polite.

She turned back to scan the businesses nearby, hoping for somewhere else she could hand in a job application, and stopped abruptly as she took in the stone building across the street.

Hermione knew of the café that Luna had warned her about, but this was the closest she'd been to it in the few days she'd been a resident of Hogsmeade.

She stared at it thoughtfully. It seemed innocent enough.

...and she could really use a coffee.

As she stood, internally deliberating, she was reminded of something her father would often say.

 _Curiosity killed the cat._

It was a saying Hermione had heard many times in her life, one that'd been told to her explicitly on many occasions.

She knew it was a wise saying. She knew she should take heed and keep her nose to herself. But her natural curiosity had always been a stronger force than her common sense, and so the advice usually ended up out the window.

This time was no exception.

She crossed the street and stopped by the fence, as the curiosity once again got the better of her.

The building certainly didn't _look_ sinister. On the contrary, her first impression of the café was that it seemed rather _cute._

The small garden behind the fence was just as quaint as Luna described, flowers lining the fence line while deeper down toward the building lied a patch of thick bushes. In the centre was a fountain, one with a creature Hermione couldn't quite identify; it looked as if it might've been an elf, one with very long, folded-over ears. She could see the wide wooden-framed windows from the fence line, and had a clear view inside the café. The windows let in a large amount of sunlight, illuminating the loveseats within the cafe enticingly, while the atmosphere behind them was quite busy.

It was that time of day, she supposed.

As she pondered going inside, she could almost hear Luna's faint voice telling her not to.

 _There's something in the water. Something that keeps you coming back._

Hermione brushed off the thought as quickly as it had arisen. It was probably just another of Luna's silly stories. Often harping on about vampires, witches, and other obscure creatures that didn't exist, Luna had always been a little off centre, to put it kindly. What was it about _this_ story that was any different?

Daft of her to put any weight on it at all, really. And it wasn't as if Luna had to find out...

She made her decision with a spark of rebelliousness. She gripped the strap of her bag on her shoulder and passed through the gate toward the entrance, her shoes tapping against the slightly overgrown stone pavers with each step.

As she closed in, she noticed a large crow sitting in one of the small trees of the garden.

It tilted its head as it watched her.

Intelligent creatures, crows.

She smiled at it, thinking to herself that if _she_ were a crow, she would scavenge from café leftovers, too.

Appearing quite small from across the street, the café looked anything but from the front step. She admired the stone walls of the old building, taking in the wooden details underneath the porch and the old, iron porch light. Down at knee level on the step was a blackboard by the door. The message was written in a neat cursive;

 _ **The perfect brew,**_  
 _ **Is waiting for you,**_  
 _ **At Hogwarts**_

She made a sound of mild amusement.

Quickly, after glancing behind her to shake the sudden irrational thought that Luna may have been watching, she entered the shop, a bell at the top of the door ringing loudly and taking her by surprise as she passed.

The old door creaked as it closed, and it was only once it was fully shut that she could appreciate how warm it was in the café. The lit fireplace toward the back of the shop did an impossibly good job of keeping the stone building toasty.

The main room was dimly lit with candles, most of the light coming from either the windows and the fireplace. The yellow-tinged ambiance along with the warmth made the space quite... cosy.

 _Definitely_ not at all sinister.

She soon noticed the sizable line up for making orders. Keeping her bag strap gripped tightly in her fist, she took a place at the end. As she waited, Hermione took the opportunity to watch the other patrons.

They all seemed happy enough. She even noticed a couple on their way out. _They_ didn't seem to have any trouble leaving.

Further evidence to suggest it _was_ just another of Luna's fantasies.

She was soon distracted from watching for anything suspicious, realising that not only was the line itself inconveniently long, it seemed to be taking a long time for each customer to place their order. In the five minutes she'd been in line, only two orders had been taken.

 _Two!_

Eyebrows drawing together, Hermione poked her head around the line to see what was going on at the counter...

And almost immediately choked on nothing seeing the man at the counter, earning her a strange look from the frumpy woman in line before her.

But Hermione paid her no mind, for _now_ she understood. Almost at once, all the pieces came together, and it all began to make so much _sense._ She suddenly felt terribly foolish for paying Luna's warning any mind at all, for how she'd assumed the worst, for how she'd crept into the shop like a frightened child.

Because it wasn't the _water_ that kept the patrons coming back.

Not at all. It was much, much simpler than that.

It surely - _must've been_ \- the barista.

She struggled to take her eyes off him. Had she been able to, she would have noticed that she wasn't the only in the cafe having a hard time. But she didn't, and instead, she stood as her head slowly tilted absentmindedly while she watched him serve, transfixed, as he chatted up a storm with the woman currently at the counter.

She could have described him in many ways. She might have mentioned his thick, dark hair, which begged to be tousled. She could've commented on his jawline; sturdy, angular, covered tightly by pale, clear skin. She might've even gone as far to compliment his height - surely over six foot - and broad shoulders, held back in a posture that screamed confidence.

But no, none of that was enough. None of that encompassed him sufficiently, none of that came close...

For he was, simply, beautiful.

She knew it wasn't the traditional way one thought of a man, _beautiful_ , but in his case, it was the _only_ way.

He wasn't beautiful in a traditional sense of the word, not in the way one would describe a field of blooming flowers and certainly not in the way one would describe a model or a princess adorning the finest silk.

No, his beauty was otherworldly, almost like... for lack thereof a better term... _magic._

It surrounded him. It was in his _aura_ , it was in the air.

She wasn't usually one to gawk, but she found herself completely unable to look away. But how could she? She hadn't known people like that actually _existed._ People like that were fantasy, characters written into stories, heavily edited celebrities featured in movies.

Definitely not people in the _real_ world.

She struggled for her entire wait in line and before she knew it, her view of him was unobstructed and his chocolate, _coffee_ coloured eyes were entirely focused upon her, waiting expectantly.

His attention on threatened to rob her of the air in her lungs.

"What may I get for you?" His voice, smooth as the finest single malt because _of course it was_ , finally jolted her out of her reverie.

"Erm," she said blinking blankly before she fumbled with her bag, fingers struggling to find her leather purse amongst all her other clutter, "just a long black, thank you."

"Size?"

She stared blankly for a second as she tried to comprehend what he was asking and tried to remember how one puts a sentence together. "Oh, um, regular, please."

He nodded and tapped her order down on the screen in front of him with a long finger, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Anything else?" He asked.

She opened her mouth to refuse, but very quickly froze as he leaned forward onto the counter with one arm while his lips turned upward, almost seductively, as if he were about to tell her a secret...

She felt the damp sensation of sweat beading on her forehead.

"The raspberry muffins are to die for."

She blinked.

"Oh," she sounded at his sideways smile, giving him what must have surely been a perfect impression of an utter moron. "Oh, no, I just-" she went to refuse, but after hearing him suggest the muffin, from his full pink lips turned in amusement - _amusement at her_ \- she found herself very sorely tempted. "Oh, alright then. A raspberry muffin."

Though she had thought he was beautiful before, it was nothing compared to how he looked properly _smiling._

"One raspberry muffin and a long black, coming up," he repeated as he straightened, offering her a hand to take her change.

She was sure not to touch his skin as she handed it over.

"Could I have your name for the order?"

"H-Hermione."

He blinked, fingers hovering over the screen. "Daughter of Helen."

"Um... yeah. Yes," she stammered. "You know your mythology."

"And my Shakespeare."

A high pitched, gurgle came from her throat, taking both of them by surprise.

She might've passed out, then and there.

At this point, passing out would have been _preferable_ to continuing to interact with this angel, with this _god_ , with this-

"Um," she started awkwardly, clearing her throat as the urge to panic built, "I, uh, think you might even know more Hermione's than my mother!" She laughed nervously, higher than usual. "Um. Yeah, I'll just-"

She gestured over toward a patch of the café where an empty table was situated. He looked very much like he wanted to laugh but was restraining himself on her behalf.

"Don't forget your number," he said, holding out a short stand with a seemingly handwritten thirty-seven on it.

"Oh. Right. Thank you." She gave him a tight smile as she took the number and scurried away to find the most hidden table possible.

She quickly sat at a table hidden around the corner, pulling her bag into her lap.

Her cheeks were fire. She breathed in heavily as she tried to recover, attempting to work out what on earth had come over her and what exactly had just happened. Other than humiliating herself beyond belief, that was.

She rested her face in her hands. Never before in her life had she reacted to a _person_ in such a way. Never before had she been driven to such hysterics, to such a state of incoherency as she had just done.

She strongly considered leaving. She very nearly did, inching out of the chair before she remembered the muffin he'd talked her into buying.

 _God, he could've talked her into buying anything and she'd have welcomed it!_

She told herself to calm down. She was being ridiculous. It wasn't that bad.

Yes, it was embarrassing. Yes, she would have preferred if she'd kept her head. But it was too late to change anything now, and there was no point in wasting a perfectly good coffee just because she was embarrassed.

God knew, she'd humiliated herself before. She'd made it through those, and she would make it through this one, too. She'd made it through high school, for heaven's sake. That had been much worse.

But then she caught a movement in her peripheral vision, and she straightened out of reflex.

 _Oh god._

 _Oh god, oh god, oh god._

"One long black," the barista murmured, carefully placing the cup and saucer in front of her, "and one raspberry muffin."

She hoped her cheeks had returned to their usual colour as she somehow managed to give him a small, composed smile. "Thank you."

"That's quite alright." He shifted to tuck his hand into the pocket of his dark brown apron. "Here," he said, offering her a small, brown card. "I meant to give it to you earlier..."

Hesitantly, she took it, once again careful not to touch him.

"Get your fifth coffee free," he explained as she examined the loyalty card.

She meant to thank him - she really did - but then he gave her another of his smiles, and her heart leapt.

It didn't stop until he was gone.

She was enormously thankful she'd found a table around the corner. It was only once he was out of eyesight that the magic dissipated, and she could breathe again.

She eyed the small card in her hand. She knew it wouldn't do for Luna to find it, but she tucked it away safely into her purse all the same. She needed all the discounts she could get, now that she was unemployed.

Her attention shifted to her coffee. Steam rose from the rich brown liquid, twirling and dancing up into the air alluringly.

It looked like a perfectly mundane cup of coffee.

She glanced behind her, making sure that she wasn't being watched, before she laced her finger through the handle and lifted the cup.

She took a sip.

It tasted... like coffee. A _delicious_ coffee, at that. It didn't _taste_ like it'd been spiked... not that it would, she supposed.

She let the small mouthful of coffee sit in her stomach for a few minutes and waited.

She didn't feel any different. She still felt perfectly able to leave, if she wished it. And so, she took another sip.

Once she was sure of its lack of poison, Hermione made short work of the coffee before she shifted her sights to the muffin. Looking at it, seeing its fluffy looking top and red bursts of raspberry, she felt enormously thankful he'd talked her into it.

She made short work of that, too.

It might've just been the best muffin she'd ever had.

* * *

"Any luck?" Luna queried brightly that evening.

"Erm..." Hermione sounded from her spot on the sofa, stirring her cheese into her pasta vigorously. "Not really. I tried a few little shops up on the hill – you know the book store and the clothing store, Gladrags? After they let me down, I tried at the library. They're not looking either."

"I'm sorry," Luna said, though her tone didn't sound overly apologetic. "My mum always said sometimes things don't work out so that something better can take its place."

Hermione smiled. "It wasn't all that bad though. I met a nice man at the chemist. He said he'd see what he could do and to go back in a few days."

"Was that Horace Slughorn?"

"Yeah. That's the one. How did you know?"

"It's a small town," Luna stated. "Everyone knows everyone here."

Hermione stopped her stirring, her thoughts returning to the beautiful barista at Hogwarts and the knee-weakening smile he'd given her as she'd left.

Did Luna know him, too?

After her muffin, Hermione hadn't had any trouble leaving the café. She simply upped and left, proving to herself beyond a doubt that Luna's warnings were unwarranted. But, having not gotten the name of the barista and not being nearly brave enough to confess to going against Luna's advice on her third day, she decided it might've been for the best to not mention him.

"What about you?" Hermione asked instead. "How was the shelter?"

"It was alright. A new cat came in in the morning. He just wandered in, off the street... I think he knew we wanted to help him."

"Huh," Hermione sounded. "Smart cat."

"Oh yes, he was very bright. We haven't thought up a name yet... he didn't seem to like any of the names we suggested."

Choosing not to comment on the fact that she was sure the cat would be fine with _any_ name they gave it, Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "How about... Oliver?" she suggested, thinking back to the book she'd just finished. "Or Charles? Dickens?"

Luna frowned. "I'm not sure if he'll like those."

"What about... Crookshanks?"

She still didn't look convinced. "I'll have to ask him what he thinks tomorrow."

Hermione popped another piece of pasta into her mouth. "I suppose that would be the polite thing to do."

Luna left shortly after that, singing to herself as she headed for the shower.

Hermione relaxed back into the couch once she'd finished her pasta, thoughts drifting back to the man at the coffee shop as the news played on the TV, unnoticed.

She wondered what his name was. She wondered where in town he lived. Perhaps it was close. She wondered how old he was, and how he spent his free time. She wondered what _his_ coffee order was. Did he like coffee? Surely he must. She wondered what he was doing working as a barista, in such a small town, no less. How had he ended up here?

She fantasised that he was like her, running away from heartbreak, leaving an old life behind.

Maybe he needed help, someone to talk to. Maybe they could comfort each other. Maybe she should speak with him.

 _Maybe she should go back._

* * *

Harry wasn't sure where he was. Having lost signal on his phone a half hour ago, he'd stopped keeping track of where they would be on the map. There was only one road, anyway. It wasn't as if they could get lost.

Instead, he watched out the window, his eyes darting as he watched the trees lit up by the car's headlights as they passed.

They were all a blur.

"Thanks for doing this," he eventually muttered, keeping his focus out the window.

The driver let out a slow sigh, his eyes not wavering from the road. "Yeah."

"The offer still stands, you know," said Harry, finally looking toward his godfather. "I'm more than happy to pay you."

"I don't want your money, kid," Sirius refused for what wasn't the first time.

Harry paused, the music from the CD Sirius had put on thumping quietly in the background. "You know I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't desperate."

Sirius' hands tightened around the wheel.

"What makes you think something's going on?"

Harry followed Sirius' gaze, watching as they continued down the straight dark road toward the pitch black past the range of the headlights. "She wouldn't just up and disappear. It's not like her."

Sirius glanced over, his eyes tired. "How well do you know her?"

"Pretty well," Harry said, nodding slightly. "She... she's my best mate's sister. Ron agrees with me. It's not like her."

He didn't like speaking about Ginny. It brought all the memories back, memories he'd worked for months to repress. His tone, tight and reserved left the unspoken, _I thought we were something more,_ hanging uncomfortably in the silence between them.

"Something going on with her?" Sirius questioned, his voice noticeably softer than it had been earlier. "Or something going on in the town?"

"I..." Harry brought one of his arms up to rest being his head. "I'm not sure."

"But you think it's the town," Sirius surmised. "That's why you asked me instead of Remus?"

Harry looked back out the window, focusing back on the patterns of the trees in the headlights.

"Yeah. You know he wouldn't believe me."

Sirius nodded slowly, his lips tightening thoughtfully.

"Well... you needn't worry kid," Sirius gruffed. "If there is something - anything at all – you can be sure we'll find out."

Harry relaxed into his seat, leaning the weight of his head against his headrest as he told himself that Sirius was probably right.

There wasn't a case his godfather couldn't crack.

The trees off the road had grown thicker now, the headlights barely penetrating the first row of plant life. They must have been getting close. If they'd hit the forest, Hogsmeade would only be a few hours away.

A few hours more, and they would reach Ginny.

A few hours more, and Harry would have his answers.

He hoped they weren't too late.

* * *

The very next day, Hermione went back to the shop.

She was almost buzzing with excitement.

While she'd been wary when she was under the impression the shop was drugging its patrons through the coffee, she had absolutely no qualms about going back now that she knew better. Especially since it came with the opportunity to stare at such a beautiful man. Even though it came with the heavy risk of embarrassing herself further, she figured she'd done such a thorough job of it the day before, that it hardly mattered what he thought of her now.

Not that he'd think of her at all.

She was just another patron.

He wouldn't even remember her anyway.

The shop was a stark contrast to how it'd been the previous day, though being a Tuesday, she wasn't overly surprised. Caffeine was always far more precious on a Monday.

Entering the cafe, her eyes were drawn to him at once, attracted like magnets.

He was leaning on his elbows on the counter, bent over at the hip, his expression rather bored seeing as he had no customers to serve. As the bell of the door gave away her presence, his eyes snapped up to meet hers.

His mouth grew into a slow smile as he eyed her lingering in the doorway.

She had half a mind to turn and flee. One look, and the need for air overcame her. The stone flooring beneath her feet seemed to shift, rendering her stance uneasy.

 _Magic, indeed._

"A regular long black," he drawled, the words carrying across the café and definitely not posed as a question. He slowly rose to stand straight, tapping the order into the screen.

Her approach was slow.

"You remembered." Her blood fought against the pull of gravity, victoriously flushing into her neck and cheeks.

He smiled sideways.

"It isn't everyday I have the privilege to meet a Hermione."

Her stomach twisted. How many people must he speak to in a day? How many names must he take?

Out of all of them, he remembered _hers_.

Gods, and he didn't just remember it, he _spoke_ it.

She'd never been overly fond of her parents' choice, but hearing it coming from _his_ lips could've changed her opinion.

"No, I-I can't imagine there'd be many of us," she said, her tone coming out more dazed than she'd intended. "Especially in a town small as this one."

"It is rather minuscule." She noticed his eyes drifting as he spoke, across her face as though he were studying her features. "Was that all?"

She swallowed, her mouth dry. "Could you... would you mind adding a raspberry muffin?"

His smile was wide, something playful in his eyes.

"Coming right up."

Had Hermione been able to pry her eyes away from him to look out the front window, she might've noticed a crow perched in the lowest branch of the largest tree, beady eyes angled in her direction.

But she didn't.

All she noticed was him.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Merry Christmas, my loves! Also, might I recommend that you listen to Bjork's 'It's Oh So Quiet' while you read this...**_

* * *

"You sure this is the place?" Sirius held a hand palm up to shield his eyes from the sun.

"Yeah," Harry said resolutely, though he understood why Sirius had his doubts.

The town was... picturesque. Quaint. Not the typical sort of place Sirius would choose to spend his time.

And most _certainly_ not the typical type of place a demon would claim as its home, either.

But Harry was sure it was the right place. He'd seen the postcard Ginny had sent to Ron with his own eyes. The sunset image had definitely been stamped 'Hogsmeade'.

Sirius grunted, scowling as if the roses lining the street had personally offended him, and continued onward down the main road, the old Valiant and the roar of its engine standing out like a sore thumb.

He knew what Sirius was thinking; they were anything but subtle. Two newcomers in a small town like this, dressed as they were in a loud vehicle that could be heard from across the valley would hardly go unnoticed. The gossip amongst the locals would surely revolve around them.

They would have no element of surprise.

It would know they were coming.

* * *

Although Horace Slughorn had said to come back 'in a few days', Hermione elected to return to the pharmacy after only two.

She was rapidly becoming desperate. It had been almost a week, and his 'maybe' remained to be the best offer she'd managed to find.

She wanted the job so badly, she could taste it. Work at the pharmacy would be far more enjoyable than cleaning, far more interesting than selling clothing. There she had the prospect of _learning_ , about both ailments and their treatments, and maybe she wouldn't feel quite so far from home there.

The pharmacy was a stones throw away from Luna's flat, too, situated conveniently in the heart of the town. Though it was small, it seemed to make a decent trade being the only merchant of prescription drugs outside of the town's local hospital.

After a failed attempt at pulling on the door, Hermione pushed her way through into the aged building. It had that distinct smell of disinfectant one associated with a hospital.

She didn't immediately see Horace past all the rows of shelving, but she soon heard a loud, distinct cough that she assumed must've belonged to him. She headed toward the sound, soon spotting him leaning on the front counter frowning down at what she could only assume was a prescription.

"Good morning, sir," she chimed as brightly as she could muster after clearing her throat to announce her presence. "I just wished to follow up on the job that we spoke about the other day?"

He glanced up from the prescription blankly, peering over his glasses briefly before recognition crossed his features. "Ah. Yes. Right. Hermione, was it?"

"Yes. Hermione Granger."

"Ah," the old man sounded, moving the script he was working on aside and straightening. "I'm afraid I don't have anything for you."

With just those few short words, the hope she'd been desperately clinging onto shrivelled up in a matter of seconds, a sizeable lump quickly forming in her throat.

 _"_ That's fine!" She burst out through gritted teeth, forcing herself to smile, though her voice came out far more shrill than it usually would. "I understand."

"I'm truly very sorry. Should you need any help with-"

"No, no! I'm fine! Completely fine!" She insisted, wanting very much to get out of there before she cried on him. "I'll just-" she gestured with her thumb back in the direction of the door, "-I'll just have to keep looking. Thank you for your time, and thank you for trying."

"Of course, my dear. And should you ever need any band-aids, or painkillers, or anything prescription, remember that our prices are far lower than up the hill."

She forced herself to nod, blinking rapidly to keep her budding tears at bay.

"Yes. Right. Well. I'm going to go now," she said stiffly. "Thanks again."

She retreated out of the pharmacy before he could say anything else, and released a long, dejected sigh into the passing gust of wind.

 _Well, fuck._

* * *

Harry let himself fall backward onto the springy mattress, his body bouncing higher from the impact than he'd initially anticipated. As he settled and the groaning of the rusty springs beneath him quietened, he sighed.

The hotel room they'd been given was small, and smelled strongly of dust. He wasn't a detective, but he would've gambled his life savings that no-one had stayed in the room for quite some time. The room and its decor - much like the hotel owners themselves - were aged. The heavy floral print of the small sofa and the printed carpet were taken straight from the seventies and gave Harry the strange sensation of being back in time.

The feeling didn't do much to improve his mood.

He lay in silence and closed his eyes, watching the slow patterns that passed by in his eyelids. While he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep - not with how anxious he was about Ginny - he took the time to try to at least rest his body. The soft sound of the birds singing their morning songs was audible through the thin hotel walls, and although he registered that they sounded beautiful, they sounded oddly sad at the same time. Though, he supposed it was probably just his own mood tainting his interpretation.

Soft footsteps gradually growing louder distracted Harry from his resting. He forced his eyes open and glanced over just as the door was opened from the outside.

"No, no, that's quite alright," Sirius was saying to a smaller figure standing outside, "I'm sure we can find our own way."

"Well, if you insist." The old woman's voice carried into the hotel room clearly. "Now, if you need any more blankets, or if you'd like access to the recreation room up by reception, let us know. Joe is normally around all day, and you can call this number at _any_ time."

"That's very kind of you." Sirius' attempt of being polite to the old hotel owner brought out a soft snort from Harry's throat.

"And if you come up to the main reception area after seven tomorrow, we'll fix you up a nice spot of breakfast."

"There's no need, really-"

"I absolutely insist! You just _must_ try Joe's porridge; he makes the best bowl in all of Hogsmeade."

"Well... I suppose when you put it like that..."

"We even squeeze our own orange juice. We can make you pancakes, or toast, or bacon and eggs, too, just be sure to let us know what you would like in advance."

"Thank you, Doris, that's much too kind of you, but I really must get going. After the long trip, I can hear the shower calling me."

"Oh of course, dear," the old woman said apologetically. "Don't let me hold you up. And if you need any help finding somewhere for dinner-"

"Thanks again!" Sirius interrupted with a wave before he quickly closed the door to the room, drowning out whatever it was the old woman was about to suggest. As soon as the door was safely closed, his shoulders slumped, and his forced smile vanished.

Harry laughed at Sirius' dramatic eye roll.

"Hey, they probably haven't had new guests in months," Harry commented from where he lay, his eyes following Sirius as he removed his hat and dumped his things on the other bed in the small room. "Let her dote if it makes her happy."

"She'll draw more attention to us," grumbled Sirius. "God knows we don't need her whole knitting club or church group, or whatever breathing down our necks."

"I think it's a bit late for trying to avoid attention, don't you?"

Sirius' lips tightened, but he didn't disagree. After a shrug, he sifted through his bag to grab a change of clothes and headed toward the bathroom, before he abruptly stopped and turned back to Harry.

"Oh. Before I forget. I snatched this from up in reception while Doris was looking for the second room key. It seems like you might be onto something here, after all," Sirius said as he tucked his free hand into his jacket to pull out a page from a newspaper. He offered it to Harry, who sat up to take it with a groan of someone twice his age.

"Another girl went missing," Harry stated as his eyes darted across the page while his stomach dropped lower with each word of the article he took in.

Sirius hummed in agreement. "A few months ago. A fresh new resident in town, miles away from her family, no one here to miss her. I asked Doris whether there's been any sign of her since the article was published. There hasn't been."

Harry tried not to read too much into the sinking feeling in his gut. For all he know, this girls case was completely different to Ginny. It didn't mean anything.

Correlation did not equal causation.

And this girl didn't have _Sirius_ looking for her.

"We'll start looking tonight," Sirius went on. "The pub we passed on the way in might he a good starting point."

Harry slowly glanced up to Sirius, his expression gradually becoming suspicious. He was all too aware of Sirius' affinity for high strength alcohol.

"Plenty of chatty drunks in towns like these," Sirius shrugged. "Trust me."

He wanted to. And it wasn't as if Harry had another option.

"All right," he grudgingly agreed. "But I'm capping you at six, and we're not driving."

Sirius scoffed.

"Sometimes, you sound just like your mother."

* * *

Hermione knew that without a job, she couldn't afford to keep spending the little money she had on coffee. It had been irresponsible of her to spend as much as she already had. And yet, while trudging up the hill with her fatally wounded job prospects, she just hadn't been able to fight the urge to make a return visit to Hogwarts.

At least it was warm in there, and inviting. Unlike all of the other businesses in the town she'd tried her luck with. Besides, she figured that she didn't actually _need_ to order anything. She could just sit and wallow, and bask in the ambiance without coffee. She had her book with her.

And so, Hermione crept in, pushing the door open slowly in an attempt to prevent the bell from alerting anyone of her arrival. She thanked her lucky stars seeing there was once again a line up for orders and passed through toward the line of tables toward the windows without being seen.

She managed to locate a quiet spot by the wider window that allowed her to soak in the warmth of the sun while also being out of sight of the front counter. While she longed to see if the the beautiful barista was there and watch how he worked, she knew that sitting and staring over the top of her book was something that a stalker might do.

She knew she was at a low, but she wasn't at _that_ sort of low.

Or at least, she told herself she wasn't.

Besides, with the mood she was in, she was highly likely to burst into tears at any given moment. She'd prefer he not see that.

She pulled her current book out of her bag - _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ \- and wasted no time sinking into it, eager to leave her current predicament behind, just for a little while.

It took her no time at all to lose herself within the pages. It was another thing she'd quickly grown to love about Hogsmeade; without the loud traffic or the crowds and drama of a city, distractions were minimal. The soft sounds of the coffee shop and its patrons were easy to tune out, and with the beautiful scenery, she could be swept away with her books in a way she hadn't been able to in London for years.

It was just what she needed.

She had no awareness of how long she sat there for. She was only interrupted a few times - once when a waitress came around and offered her a bottle of table water and a glass, and a second time when a large lady with a young girl she called 'Hokey' bumped her table as they passed.

Although the angle of the sun told her it couldn't have been much past midday, hours could have passed for all she knew.

It was only upon hearing a soft thunk from directly in front of her that her muscles jolted and she at last put the book down.

She looked up to see sitting before her in the centre of her table, a take away cup, fresh steam swirling out from the spout.

Not that she paid it any attention other than what it took to determine what it was. She was far too distracted by the man behind it who was slowly taking up the place opposite her to care at all for the take away cup between them.

"Over an hour you've been sitting here, and you haven't ordered a thing."

She stared at him in a daze, lips parted ever so slightly. If she'd been able to think, she might've felt self-conscious sitting and gawking as the moment grew longer, extending into awkwardness.

The barista stared back curiously, watching her patiently before his lips eventually quirked into an amused smirk. He leaned forward on the table, his weight tilting it such that her perched bookmark fell to the ground.

Neither of them went to pick it up.

"Mr. Dippet is not fond of loiterers," he stated almost playfully as he held her eyes, his words lower than they'd been previously. He nudged the cup of coffee closer to her with his knuckles.

Seeing the words leave his lips, and seeing that she wasn't imagining him talking to her as she'd been doing ever since she first laid eyes on him was enough to shake her.

"Oh. _Oh_ ," she sounded, gripping her book and pulling it toward her in a hurry. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't realise-"

His large hand snapped down on her book, preventing her from lifting it off the table, his skin dangerously close to hers. Even without touching him, she could feel his warmth.

"I'm teasing you." His smile was wider as he eyed the take away cup pointedly. "You don't need to leave. You're a customer now, anyway."

"Oh," she repeated moronically, eyeing how close their hands were. "Oh, no, I couldn't... there's no need... you shouldn't have... I can't accept that."

"Why not?" He asked simply. "It isn't as if I paid for it."

She blinked.

"Did... did you _steal_ this?"

He leaned in closer, his eyes seeming to glisten in the sun. "I won't tell if you won't."

The words, together with his proximity, awakened something in the pit of her stomach. Excited, wild and warm, the sensation rapidly spread through her veins and had her so sorely tempted that she didn't even bother to look around for any other workers who may have been watching before she gave in.

"Well then... thank you," she breathed, trying not to read too much into the rush of exhilaration.

He waited, his crooked smile unwavering as she gripped the take away cup and pulled it towards herself, claiming it as her own.

"May I ask what you're doing over here, all by yourself?" He asked once she'd brought the spout to her lips to test the temperature.

"Just reading. It's a nice place for it." She shrugged, suddenly feeling an onslaught of self-consciousness under his watch at her messy hair and second hand copy of her book.

"That's all?" he asked, almost knowingly.

Hermione parted her lips to speak, but before she could get a word in, he moved suddenly, reaching over to take her glass of water. He took his time bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip, his eyes not leaving hers all the while.

Her attention was drawn to the stray bead of water that lingered on his bottom lip, and she was all too conscious of the saliva pooling underneath her tongue.

Her swallow was loud.

"I..." she began, far too dazed to think of anything but the truth. "Honestly... I'm hiding. From my roommate."

His eyebrows shot up.

"I'm supposed to be job hunting," she explained, bringing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's... it hasn't been going very well."

"Ah," he sounded. "I did wonder whether you'd be staying."

She blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"It isn't very often we get to see new faces here. It's even rarer to see ones that stay."

"Yes, well... I might not be staying, after all. I'll be forced out soon if I can't find anything."

His head turned to the side, not unlike a bird. "You know... I could put a good word in for you here, with Mr. Dippet. If you like."

And just like that, a small spark of hope was resurrected from the ashes left from that morning. "Y-you'd do that? For a stranger?"

His tongue passed over his lip. "I have a good feeling about you."

Her heart skipped, and she subconsciously leaned in closer. "That would be so kind of you. I don't know how I could repay you..."

"You could consider it a favour, if that makes you feel better. You never know; one day, I might need one from you in return."

"That... of _course_... I mean... yes," she gushed. "If there's ever anything, all you'd need to do is ask."

He smiled pleasantly, and for a split second, Hermione thought there might've been something else along with kindness in the warmth behind his eyes, almost like... _satisfaction._

"It's a deal," he said simply, and as fast as the look had appeared, it passed, and Hermione assumed she had imagined it. "Well, I should be heading back. They've probably noticed my absence by now." He rose from where he sat, and went to leave, shooting her another of his smiles that made the muscles of her abdomen tighten.

"Enjoy your coffee, Hermione."

"Wait!" She shot up, stepping in his direction after him. He halted and turned back, eyebrows quirked in curiosity. "I can't begin to thank you enough, I... god, I don't even know your name."

For a moment, as he remained still and resembled a statue, Hermione didn't think he was going to answer her.

But then he stepped closer once more, extending a hand in her direction. "How awfully rude of me. Tom."

She wasn't sure what it was that thrilled her more; finally having a name to call him by, or the prospect of actually _touching_ him.

How many were lucky enough to get to touch the one who was the object of their daydreams?

How many were lucky enough to actually catch their attention?

 _I have a good feeling about you._

 _I have a good feeling about you._

 _Tom._

 _Tom._

 _Tom._

He waited patiently, keeping his hand extended as if the amount of time it was taking her to shake his hand was perfectly normal.

But then her brain jump-started, and she reached out, and then-

She touched him, and it was electric.

She gasped aloud at the feeling of his skin on hers, a current sparking to life between them. Time stood still as the odd sensation of her arm weakening passed through her, as if she'd just woken up from a long sleep and hadn't yet regained full control of her muscles.

But if he noticed it or felt anything similar, he didn't mention it. He released her hand, and Hermione didn't know whether to sigh in relief or to protest at the sudden loss.

She cradled her hand to her chest as she met his eyes, finding them alight, amused, watching just as intently as he had done earlier.

He must've heard her gasp. He must've noticed her flushed state, and her wide eyes, and how she cradled her hand as if it'd been wounded. But yet-

"I'll see you around," was all he said before he walked away, as if it had been nothing, as if he hadn't just left her entire world reeling.

It was all she could do to nod and watch as he vanished from sight.

And Hermione was left puzzling over what the hell had happened all the way home.

* * *

Luna hummed and swayed along in time with Bjork's 'It's Oh So Quiet' as she arranged the new batch of brochures on the front desk. Crookshanks - who had vehemently approved of his new name - followed her as she moved through the main room of the shelter, his bell ringing loudly with each trot of his paws. She floated her arms through the air as she went, moving them in time with the soft melody of the verse, until the crescendo of the chorus hit.

She span in time with the jazz, dancing through to the back room and moving backward as she sang back to Crookshanks, "you've never been so nuts about a guy, you want to laugh you want to cry, you cross your heart and hope to die-"

Crookshanks followed her through, his golden eyes playful.

"'Til it's over."

As she turned back to watch where she was going, she went back to a hum, swaying her hips gently as she passed the cages of animals waiting to be adopted. She _shushed_ at the animals as she passed, tip-toeing on the stone floor quietly all the while.

She made it halfway down the line of cages before the abrupt silencing of Crookshanks' bell over the music brought her to a halt.

Luna looked back the way she'd come to see the walkway empty.

"Crookshanks?" She called over the music, slowly backtracking to the main room of the shelter, soon spotting him perched on the front desk. "What are you doing back in here? You know we need to start feeding the others."

Crookshanks didn't pay her any mind as she approached him, his golden eyes remaining locked on something in the distance out of the window.

The fur along his spine stood tall on end, all the way from the nape of his neck to the tip of his bushy tail.

"...Crookshanks?" She tried gently, bringing her hand to his back to stroke his fur gently. "Are you feeling all right?"

The cat remained stiff, twitching ever so slightly under her touch. "Has a Wrackspurt got you?" She asked gently, before she finally followed his gaze.

And just like Crookshanks, she immediately froze.

There was a man outside.

Tall, slim, with dark hair and a long, black coat, the man stood across the street in the park, standing oddly close next to an empty wooden bench.

That was, empty, aside from the crow perched on the corner unusually close to the man.

A sudden wave of unease that penetrated to her bones washed over her as she watched, frozen in place, as the man slowly moved, turning to the side and shifting closer to the crow. He bent slightly at the hips, dropping his head to the eye-level of the crow almost as if he were... _talking_ to it. From the new angle, she could just make out his profile, sharp and straight, almost _regal._

She made out a soft growl from Crookshanks that sent goose-pimples down her own spine over the music.

And then, almost as if they too had heardit, the man turned in their direction at the very same moment the crow did.

With a sharp intake of air, Luna shot downward, dropping to a squat behind the desk.

 _He didn't see, he didn't see, he didn't see-_

The room around her thrummed and Crookshanks' loud growl was lost in the jazz-

 _'You blow a fuse,_

 _zing boom!_

 _The devil cuts loose,_

 _zing boom!_

 _So, what's the use,_

 _WOW BAM!_

 _Of falling in love?'_

Luna gasped for air as her blood curdled, and the temperature in the shelter plummeted. While she couldn't see, she just knew he was watching, could _feel_ he was watching down to her bones. It was the squeak of styrofoam, metal on metal, nails on a chalkboard-

She squeezed the palms of her hands over her ears as she rocked back and forth, her heart pounding with the jazz, and her skin crawling-

 _He didn't see, he didn't see, he couldn't have seen._

She remained curled behind the desk long after the song had ended, and the one after that, too. She didn't move until Crookshanks jumped down from the desk, and circled her crouched form, rubbing his tail along her leg as he went. With shaky arms, she scooped him up and cradled him close against her chest as she slowly plucked the courage to poke her head up above the desk.

The man and his crow were gone.

And yet, the cold feeling of being watched did not fade.


	3. Chapter 3

"'Arry!"

Harry briefly closed his eyes, choosing to ignore the slurred call of his name.

"Oi, 'Arry!" The second call was substantially louder than the first, and this time, he couldn't believably pretend not to hear. "C'mon over!"

After a swift roll of his eyes, Harry slowly made his way from the bar over to the small table Sirius stood at, a sizeable number of empty pint glasses in the centre.

He looked his Godfather up and down before lowering his eyebrows in accusation. "You're drunk."

"Am not!" Sirius disagreed, straightening as if it would hide the slight swaying of his form. "Come meet my new frien's."

A pair of men, each looking almost as intoxicated as Sirius himself sat at the round table he was currently using to hold himself up with.

Sirius gestured at the smaller of the two, "this is H-Hubertus-"

"Horace." The man corrected.

"-and Haggis."

"Hagrid."

"'S what I said." Sirius waved his hand nonchalantly and leaned his elbow on the table.

"Good to meet you," Harry drawled irritably with a side-eye at Sirius.

"Likewise, m'boy, likewise," said the man called Horace before he patted the stool beside him. "Take a seat! It isn't every day we see new faces around here!"

Harry gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and, somewhat grudgingly, took the vacant stool next to Horace.

"What brings you into our small town, m'boy? Your friend here hasn't yet had the decency to enlighten us. Harry, was it?"

Harry nodded, putting in a conscious effort to keep a straight face as Horace wrapped an arm over his shoulders. "We're looking for someone. A girl—family friend of mine. She came out here to Hogsmeade for a trip away and we haven't heard from her in a while."

"Oh? Oh, how dreadful. Isn't that dreadful?" Hagrid nodded solemnly in response, while Sirius tipped his head all the way back to finish his current beer.

"We were hoping," Harry glared at Sirius, "that someone here might've seen her."

Horace's thick brows lowered. "A young woman?" He asked, and Harry nodded. "On her own?" Another nod. "Looking for work?"

"Maybe."

"Oho! Yes, yes, I might've... about yay big-" Horace gestured at the height of his chin, "-slim, big hair? Almost like a dish brush?"

Harry straightened, a dangerous burst of hope beginning to spark in his stomach. "Did you happen to get her name?"

"Erm... Harm... Harmony... no, that's not—Herm... Hermes. Hermione!"

Harry very quickly slumped. "The woman I'm looking for- her name is Ginny," he went on, his tone becoming desperate. "Ginny Weasley. Ginevra."

Horace's eyebrows once more lowered in thought. "I... can't say the name's familiar," he said, and as Hagrid shook his head in agreeance, Harry's spirits plummeted. "But, if it's a young woman you're looking for, you'd perhaps try up the hill? At Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts?"

"The coffee shop. Small stone building. Looks a bit like a castle, wouldn't you say?" Horace whacked Hagrid on the arm.

Hagrid nodded so vigorously that he had to grip to table to keep himself from topping off his stool. "Daintiest castle ye've ever seen in yeh life."

"Too right," Horace agreed loudly. "They'd see more traffic up there then down here. Coffee's the flavour of the month, you see. All the young people nowadays trying to be _hip_."

Harry glanced over at Sirius hopefully, finding him slouching with his eyes shut on the brink of passing out. "We'll be sure to check it out. Thank you," Harry said.

"Don't mention it, my fine boy," Horace said, clasping Harry on the shoulder before he took a long swig of his beer. "Now, just remember, if you ever need anything—band-aids, painkillers, anything prescription—remember that my prices at the pharmacy are far lower than up the hill."

* * *

By the time the door handle rattled that night with the tell-tale sound of Luna's entry, Hermione's worry was becoming dangerously close to breaking point.

Like a cat that'd been spooked, she straightened from her slouched position of the couch and eyed the doorway. A moment later, Luna's distinct figure passed through slowly, her head down and her hands tightly clenched around the strap of her bag.

"Luna? Are you all right?" Hermione asked at once as Luna carefully placed her bag down on the coffee table.

Luna's head picked up at the sound of her voice, as though she'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed Hermione on the couch. "Yes," she said distractedly. "Yes, fine."

"It's late. I was really starting to worry about you," said Hermione before she blinked, getting a good look at Luna's face in the light from the lamp. "Did you get held up at the shelter?"

Luna didn't answer, and instead pressed her lips tightly together before she slowly began to pace the living room.

"Luna... are you sure you're all right?" repeated Hermione. "You look almost as if you've seen a ghost."

Luna stopped her pacing and glanced away, her teeth holding onto her lip. "What if I told you I had?" she whispered.

"Um," Hermione sounded, leaning forward toward Luna as she dropped herself into the vacant armchair. "Then I'd really have to ask you again... are you feeling all right?"

Luna stared down at her hands, clamping them together in her lap. "You don't believe me."

"Luna-"

"Of course you don't believe me. Why would you?"

"I haven't said that I don't believe you," Hermione insisted gently, her eyes softening. "You haven't even told me what's happened. I couldn't have possibly made up my mind of whether I believe you or not even if I wanted to."

Luna nodded and leaned in, mirroring Hermione's posture. "I was at the shelter earlier. I was closing. I saw a man in the park across the road through the window, and he was watching me. Us, Crookshanks and I. I don't know what he was. A monster, or a demon, or a ghost, I don't know, but what I _do_ know, is that he was just... wrong," she said surely. "He didn't belong."

"Luna..."

"And there was a crow," she went on. "It was with him, on the bench. It was like he was _talking_ to it."

At that, Hermione thought back to the crow she'd seen at Hogwarts.

Common creatures, crows.

She brushed the thought off and reached out to place a hand on Luna's shoulder. "How about I get you a cup of tea?" she asked.

Luna met Hermione's eyes. "You don't believe me."

"No," Hermione said quickly. "No, I believe you, I do. I might not exactly believe that who you saw was a ghost or a _demon_ , but creepy men are everywhere. He might very well have been dangerous, and you were right to stay away."

"No," Luna said quickly, the word imploring. "No, it wasn't like that, he wasn't a _man._ I know. He was something else... something _other._ He didn't belong."

Hermione gave Luna the best sympathetic look she could muster and patted her hand on her shoulder. "I'll get you that tea." She rose from her seat and went toward the kitchen. "I can come with you next time, if you like. To the shelter," she called back to Luna from the kitchen. "Would that make you feel better?"

Hermione didn't hear an answer, and so she focused on getting the colour of the tea to the perfect shade of not _quite_ black. Once satisfied, she added a small dash of milk to each mug and carried them back into the living room.

"Here," she said, offering the purple mug to Luna.

Luna took it carefully and gave her a small smile before she whispered, "I don't think I want to go back. He knows I work there now."

Hermione blinked. "B-but what about the animals?" she said, though her mind was yelling, _what about the money?_ "You love it there, what about Crookshanks?"

Then, as if the creature had heard its name and was unable to fight the call of it, Luna's bag on the coffee table moved as if it were alive, knocking the glass that Hermione had left on it clean off and onto the floor, where it landed with a loud _smash_. Wide-eyed, Hermione looked back to the bag to see a ginger, squashed sort of face poking out of the half-open zipper.

Hermione stared at the cat.

The cat stared back.

"Luna..."

Luna was peering up at Hermione sheepishly and brought her free hand up in a shrug. "Surprise," she said guiltily. "It's like you said—I couldn't just leave him. What if he… what if _it_ comes back?"

Hermione sighed loudly and silently wondered whether there was a psychiatrist somewhere in the town.

She suspected not.

"Fine," she said grudgingly after a pause, plonking herself back down into her spot on the couch. "But you can clean up that glass, and you can be responsible for feeding him. And he's _not_ sleeping anywhere near me."

Luna grinned, lunging forward to the bag to help Crookshanks get out of it. She cradled the cat tightly in her arms and sat back down, giving him a chance to get comfortable in her lap.

"This is your new home, Crookshanks," said Luna, gesturing to the living room. "Do you like it?"

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes, but then, the bloody cat actually _meowed._

Luna grinned down at him. "It _is_ cosy, isn't it? The yard has plenty of room for you to run around, and the pillows over on that couch are really soft. I know you'll like them, and we can get you a scratching post, too! Would you like that?"

Another _meow._

"Bloody hell," Hermione mumbled, taking a long sip of her tea.

"It's okay, Crookshanks," said Luna, scratching the cat behind the ears. "She'll warm up to you soon. It took a while for me, too."

Hermione glanced up at Luna and rolled her eyes, and Luna simply smiled sweetly back.

It wasn't as if she'd been wrong.

* * *

The next day, eager to get out of the house and away from the new cat who seemed to want to follow her everywhere, Hermione went back to Hogwarts.

It was late morning by the time she made it to the top of the hill, the front garden of the café shaded by the silhouette of the building. Even without the sun shining on the garden, it was just as lovely, and Hermione felt her nerves soothed by the vivid colours of the plants and the sheer amount of life in the garden. There were butterflies by the fence, flying between the flowers. The sound of birds chirping echoed down from high up in the largest tree, and she saw the tail of red squirrel as it darted up the trunk. There was even a crow in the same spot of the smaller tree that she'd seen one in on her first visit.

She wondered if it was the same crow.

Why Luna was so insistent upon staying away from such a place was well and truly beyond her, and by the time Hermione made it through the garden and into the shop, she had a wide grin on her face.

It didn't stay there long, however. A sobering, odd combination of relief and disappointment washed over her seeing an unknown young teenager behind the front counter of Hogwarts rather than Tom.

As soon as she registered the sinking feeling, she suddenly felt rather foolish. Really, what had she been thinking? He obviously couldn't have been the only one working there. He was entitled to a day off, just as others were entitled to working there.

But then, just as she sighed and began to accept the fact that she wouldn't be seeing him that day, there was the faintest of touches on her shoulder, and even through her clothing, it felt sharply electrical. Hermione flinched and spun on her heel, her breath catching in her throat—

And Tom was there, standing mere inches away, one hand holding a stack of dishes he must've been in the process of collecting from the cafe tables, the other lowering from brushing her shoulder.

He was grinning down at her, in a way that almost looked as if he was _relieved_ to see her _._ "Just as I was beginning to think I wouldn't see you today."

With each word he spoke, the words so very close to the same ones she'd been thinking about him, her heart skipped a beat.

"Um... sorry to disappoint," she managed to say with a nervous sort of laugh, giving him the closest thing to a smile as she could manage.

"Oh, no, no, quite the opposite," he said quietly before he gestured at the counter. "Coffee?"

Hermione's lungs stilled.

 _Quite the opposite._

 _Quite the opposite._

Had he... actually been wanting to see her? _Her?_

The thought alone had her cheeks heating. "Yes, please."

He gave her another of his dismantling, wide smiles and said, "come."

Unlike her brain, her legs obediently obeyed her will and she trailed after him. As he ducked behind the counter, she waited on the other side, leaning against the wooden panelling, watching as his slender hands found the tools he needed for her coffee.

They were nice. His hands, that was. His fingers, though slim, looked strong and sure of their movements. She watched his tendons moving, passing under his visible veins as he deftly cleaned the machine, readying it for another brew.

It was hypnotising, watching him work.

"I spoke with Mr. Dippet this morning," said Tom after a while, drawing her attention off of his hands. She found his dark eyes peering at her over the machine as he loaded it with a fresh scoop of coffee grounds. "He'd like to meet you."

"R-really?" Hermione didn't have a hope of keeping the excitement from her voice; with Luna's decision to leave her job, she needed it now more than ever.

"Really." He grinned. "How's tomorrow morning?"

"That's... that'd be perfect."

"Nine?"

She nodded, but being busy fixing a lid to her cup, Tom didn't see it, so she said, "I'll be here bright and early."

"Great," he said, sliding the cup over to her and watching her expectantly. "Did you have your card on you?"

"Oh." Hermione rummaged through her wallet, quickly finding the light brown card he'd given her with her first coffee. She handed it over and he plucked it from her grip carefully.

He brought a stamp out from next to the register and gave it two, quick stamps. "An extra one for yesterday," he explained, offering the card back to her with a wink that was so quick she almost missed it.

"Th-thank you," she mumbled, the words coming out humiliatingly airily.

If he noticed, he didn't mention it. "Of course," he said, leaning forward onto the counter and flashing his teeth in the very same sideways smile that she was beginning to think was her favourite of his. "Besides, I need something to keep you coming back."

The words, so similar to Luna's initial warning of the coffee shop, had Hermione laughing. "I think between this and the job, you're pretty well set to never getting rid of me."

He watched her for a long moment. His smile didn't waver, and she thought that as his eyes passed over her features, he might've been looking at her lips.

"Perfect."

* * *

It was the afternoon by the time Harry managed to get Sirius out of bed, _late_ afternoon by the time they were ready to leave the hotel room.

Late afternoon was hardly the time to be visiting a coffee shop and Harry hadn't held back in telling Sirius so, but evidently suffering from what looked to be a mammoth of a hangover, Harry figured his Godfather was being punished well enough.

Once they got finally moving, finding Hogwarts hadn't been difficult. The cafe was located at the very top of the hill on the main street of Hogsmeade and was just as Horace and Hagrid had said the night before; it easily could've passed as a miniature castle.

Sirius let out a tired sigh as they pulled up out the front, lifting his hands off of the wheel to rub at his temples.

"I can go in alone, if you'd prefer," Harry offered.

To that, Sirius replied with only a snort before he got out of the car. Harry followed suit, stepping out of the old car to take in the café and its surroundings.

Harry had to admit, it was a cute little place. The ornamental garden gave him the impression it would be the exact sort of café that an elderly grandmother would be running.

He glanced beside him at Sirius to see him scowling at the flowers.

"Come on, then," said Harry, leading the way into the shop. Harry heard Sirius mumble something unintelligible as the bell rung, alerting any staff of their entry.

Stopping in the entrance way, Harry glanced around. The cafe seemed inconspicuous enough. A modest number of customers sat around the shop, sipping at their drinks, engrossed in light conversations. The decor was aged, and most of the furniture was darkly wooden. Above then in the entry way, was an old chandelier lit with candles rather than light bulbs. It, along with the fireplace and bookcase on the far wall gave the cafe a cosy feel to it.

"What do you think?" asked Harry.

Sirius lifted his sunglasses to perch them on the top of his head and glanced at Harry. "Creepy."

Harry wasn't sure if he agreed. If he were being honest, his first impression of the shop was that it was rather... quaint. If Ginny _had_ been spending her time free time there, then he could hardly blame her. He'd probably do the same if he were staying in the town for recreation.

"Should we ask the staff?" Harry gestured at the front counter, and though there wasn't currently anyone behind it, Sirius nodded and led the way over.

Sirius gave the bell two quick rings and Harry used the opportunity to keep looking around.

The shop was more spacious on the inside than it'd looked from the outside. There were multiple seating areas, each with its own theme to it; one to the left that looked a bit like a library. One toward the front of the shop that was lighter and more spacious, centred around the wide bay-window. The other, closer to the back, had more of a medieval mood to it with rich emerald and ruby coloured rugs layered over each other.

"Can I help you?"

At the deep voice, Harry craned his neck back to glance at the staff member who'd greeted them, and in that instant, all of this thoughts came to an abrupt, screeching halt.

Never in his life had Harry seriously questioned his sexuality before. He'd known from his young teenage years, that he was, quite strongly, attracted to women.

And yet, the man behind the counter, the one who'd spoken, had Harry's cheeks reddening, his mouth pooling and his skin quickly growing clammy.

After a swift questioning glance at Harry that went unseen, Sirius stepped forward and said, "we're looking for a woman. Ginny Weasley. Ring a bell?"

The man's dark eyes passed between them, and Harry felt his pulse speeding up with each moment that the barista's attention was on him. "Can't say that it does."

"Err... here," Harry said once he regained the ability, fumbling with his wallet slightly and taking out Ginny's photograph to place it on the counter. "This is-" Harry cleared his throat and moistened his overly dry lips. "This is her. Do you recognise her?"

With a long finger, the barista slid the photo across the counter towards himself. Harry watched his dark eyes scanning the image, and though he'd been watching for any sign of recognition, he found his attention more focused on the shape of the barista's jaw, the positioning of his moles, the individual hairs of his eyebrows—

"I think I'd remember a woman such as this one, had I seen her," said the barista, sliding Ginny's photograph back toward them. "Sorry."

"D-d'you know where else we might try?" asked Harry, a building desire to keep talking, to keep the barista's attention. "Somewhere else in town tourists might visit?"

The barista's shoulder rose and fell in a sort of half-shrug, and Harry couldn't help but notice how _broad_ his shoulders were. "The bank. The supermarket. Petrol station. Places of necessity, maybe."

Harry forced himself to nod. "Thank you."

The barista leaned forward onto the counter, the veins in his pale, sinewy arms standing out. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help," he said politely. "Could I offer you a drink or anything while you're here, detective...?"

"Oh," Harry gushed quickly, "I'm not—we're not detectives. Just concerned for a frie-" Sirius' elbow drove into Harry's side.

Sirius cleared his throat at the same time as Harry made a sound of pain. "Just a couple glasses of water, thanks mate."

The barista's eyes passed between them once more and he watched Sirius for an extended moment. "Right away."

As soon as the barista stepped back from the counter and around the corner out of sight, Sirius glared at Harry. "The fuck's wrong with you?"

Harry glanced at Sirius from the corner of his eye. "Nothing."

"Bullshit. You're doing a fine impression of a pubescent boy at his elder sister's slumber party—"

Sirius broke off as the barista came back into view, two tall glasses of water in his hands.

"Water's free," said the barista as he reached them, sliding the two glasses across the counter.

"Thanks, mate." Sirius lifted his and downed it in a scull, while Harry gave the barista a tight smile and took a hesitant sip of his.

The barista's lips twisted in what might've been mild amusement. "You two in town for long?"

"Just until we find the girl," said Sirius before Harry had the chance to speak, returning the glass. Then he turned to Harry and gestured toward the door. "Well, come on then."

Harry nodded and put down his glass. "Um," he sounded, "thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Harry held his stare for a moment, and when he broke it to follow after Sirius, it almost felt painful.

The feeling followed him to the door like a rope, pulling at him, tugging at him, urging him not to leave, to look back, to turn around, to _stay_ —

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, succumbing at the very last moment and stopping in his tracks. "Could... would you mind... could I get your name?"

The barista's lips re-formed the same, playful smirk he'd given him earlier and this time, Harry didn't think he'd be able to look away from it if he tried. "Tom."

"H— I'm Harry."

Harry's blood grew hot as Tom's eyes passed down to his shoes and back up again. "It was nice meeting you, Harry."

Harry wanted to say more. He opened his mouth to do just that, but then his arm was forcefully yanked in the direction of the door.

"Come on," Sirius all but growled, and with a pathetic sort of a wave, Harry turned his back on the barista and exited the shop.

Sirius didn't let go of his arm until they were outside and out past the front gate of the cafe's yard.

Feeling Sirius glaring at him, Harry kept his eyes on his shoes and quickly got back into the car. He sighed as his weight sank into the worn passenger seat of the Valiant, finally feeling as if the weight on his chest had let up and he could properly breathe again.

Sirius spoke as soon as he got in the car. "The fuck was that?"

Harry blinked. "Sorry?"

"Don't play dumb with me, boy. 'Could I get your name?'" Sirius mocked in what Harry could only assume was an impression of himself. "You need a handkerchief for all that drool?"

Harry snorted low in his throat. "I—I wasn't _drooling_ , I'm not— I don't like... _men_ , not like _that_ , I just—"

Sirius cut him off with a loud scoff shut his door with a slam. "I don't believe him," he grumbled.

Harry frowned. "No?"

"Not for a moment." Sirius twisted the keys and the Valiant roared to life. "Did you hear what he said? He didn't say no."

"D-didn't he? I thought he said—"

"When you showed him your girl's picture, he didn't say he didn't recognise her. He eluded to it and he left us to reach the conclusion on our own."

"Wait," Harry said, frown deepening. "What does that mean?"

Sirius put the car into gear, and they started to move as if he were in a hurry to put some distance between them and the café. "It's a common tactic used by several types of demon, some of which I've had experience with. Ones who are sworn to the truth, ones who cannot lie, others who find enjoyment in teasing, playing with humans."

"Then... you're saying that he's…" Harry glanced toward the road, but his eyes were unfocused. "But... that means..."

"It means, we might have an idea of what we're dealing with here," Sirius said lowly. "And the way he had you tripping over your own tongue on top of that... that leaves even fewer possibilities."

"I-I wasn't _tripping_... I was just nervous, I—"

"Save it for someone who believes you," said Sirius, turning the car in a neat U-turn to direct them back down the main street. "Could be a vampire." Sirius curled his nose up in distaste as he spoke. "A bit of a pain to deal with, but it's easy enough to kill one when you can get them alone. It would explain the missing girls—"

"B—it's daylight," Harry pointed out, his stomach turning over the word _kill_.

Sirius barked a quick laugh. "Did you see how dark it was in there? It was lit with candles for Christ's sake."

Harry pondered that. "I... I mean... I _guess_ so..."

"Or..." Sirius went on, "he still could be a demon. He'd have to be a higher demon to have you making such a fool of yourself, which would mean bad news, but... I don't know, that doesn't explain why he didn't affect me..."

Harry remained silent, allowing Sirius to collect his thoughts.

"It could be... nah," Sirius decided quickly. "Fey aren't solitary, and they're notoriously peaceful. Really rare out in human communities, too. I've never even seen one myself."

"What makes you think he's solitary?"

Sirius pulled his eyes away from the road for just long enough to give Harry a look of disbelief. "The rest of the staff. None of them had you drooling like a Saint Bernard, did they?"

"Hey—"

"Save it," repeated Sirius. "No, I think it's much more likely that we're dealing with a witch."

There was a sizeable pause after Sirius' declaration, until Harry couldn't hold it in any longer, "don't you mean wizard?"

Sirius waved one of his hands dismissively. "We should assume it's a witch," he said, ignoring Harry. "They're very common. Simple enough to handle. Just gotta get you one of these." Sirius tapped on his neck and Harry's eyes followed the movement.

"A _rosary?_ "

"You don't have to believe in what it symbolises," said Sirius. "Just believe that witches hate the things and it'll protect you. It's probably why he had such an effect on you and not me."

"He didn't have an _effect_ on me," said Harry, scratching at the skin of his neck that felt hot just _remembering_. "And I don't think it was a spell, he was just... he was really... I dunno... maybe I'm just..."

Sirius didn't wait for Harry to finish that before he laughed. "And _some_ fucking spell at that," he mumbled. "Don't worry. If it's meant to be, and you feel the same way with your rosary on, and then by all means; we can forget about your girl, and the two of you can ride off into the sunset."

"Sirius..."

"Hell, if I'm wrong, I'll even let you have the Val."

Harry blinked. "...you mean that?"

"Yep." Sirius popped the 'p'.

"I'll hold you to that," Harry murmured, pulling his wallet out from his pocket. He folded it open and glanced down at Ginny's smiling photograph, his thumb brushing over it.

"Hey, Sirius?" asked Harry, looking up from the photo after a moment of quiet.

"Yeah?"

"If... if he _is_ a witch, or a vampire, or a higher demon or whatever, and he _is_ responsible for Ginny being missing... do you think... d'you... could she..."

"Still be alive?" Sirius offered.

"...yeah."

Harry noticed Sirius' hands tightening on the wheel.

"Maybe," he said at last. "More likely so if he's a witch. Less likely if he's a vampire. But if she is... you can be sure that we'll find her. Promise."

At the weight in Sirius' words, Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat.

He tried to think of Ginny. He tried to think of what they were doing, to remind himself that this was a monster they were talking about, that anything they did was for the greater good.

And yet…

And yet, all he could see were those brown eyes.


End file.
